Fuck. Another one.
Davaskar's voice was calm, however he might feel. "Looks like a seeker. Run interference."
A cloud of ionized particles spread out in the missile's path. Morgan crossed mental fingers. Jirra was deploying the weapons systems, but they had been in lock down while at Iniciara's space station, and they would take a few moments of precious time to be combat-ready.
"Attacking craft to starboard, on a heading to cut us off," Jirra said. "Second missile still on track. Prepare for impact."
Morgan braced as the alarms shrilled. The force flung her sideways, smashing her hip against the seat arm. Something sizzled, filling the air with the stink of burnt wires. Lights blinked. Her hip hurt.
Ravindra's voice cut through the cacophony. "What's happening?"
She felt, rather than saw, him sit down in the command chair at the back of the bridge.
"Under fire from an unknown attacker, Srimana," Jirra said without looking up.
"Damage report?"
"Sensors blown to starboard, systems report mild structural damage to the hull."
A blast from a beam weapon tore across the ship's bow.
'Shields critical'. The letters flashed a warning on every screen while a slow beep sounded a countdown.
The unknown assailant pivoted, ready for another run.
Fuck it. "I'm taking control. Strap in."
Morgan forced her physical body to relax, and concentrated every part of her being on her cyber consciousness. The data paths opened like laser beams as she melded with the ship. The sensor data poured in and with it space, starlight, the shimmer of the failing shields, and the fast-approaching attacker a point in front of an expanding cone of energy. Morgan fired a missile, then another. Now move. Rotate left, pivot down. One missile impacted on the mystery ship's shields, the second was destroyed in a breath-taking last-minute maneuver that allowed the ship's pilot to use lasers. Great shooting.
Curlew had taken a hit to the rear. The engines skipped ever so slightly. The systems worked to keep the ship even, but efficiency was reduced. Morgan would have to go down and check, but with the attacker out there, she couldn't.
Only one thing to do.
"Hang on, troops we're going to shift space. Now."
She jammed on the power, too fast. She'd programmed a micro-jump, difficult to do because of the forces on the shift drive, the rapid entry and exit not giving the systems time to settle. The external sensors automatically shut down in shift space; after all, there was nothing to see. This time, the sensors barely flickered, but when the view settled, the starscape had changed, and no attacker appeared on any of the screens.
Morgan concentrated again, forcing herself out of the simple machine state, and back into the swirling chaos of her human mind. Funny how calm she felt when she was in machine mode. Down here in the chair, her heart was galloping, her body bathed in sweat. In the cyber world there were no doubts, just yes or no, black or white, results on percentages of accuracy.
Ravindra knelt beside her, his hand on her arm. "Are you all right? You look terrible."
She sucked in a deep breath. "Yes. I've done a micro-jump to buy us some time." She closed her eyes, willing her heart to slow down. "I did what we call a Total Machine Meld, a TMM. You put all your mental power into the systems you're working with, and let the body fend for itself." She forced a laugh. "Only to be done in a life or death situation."
Holding her hand, Ravindra nodded, a spark of compassion showing even through the contact lenses. He knew; it was a warrior thing. "Were you in danger? From this TMM?"
"Could be. It's so easy being a machine, you see. No rights or wrongs, just make it work." Make it work beautifully, be the ship, see the stars, see further than any human could, live for as long as the machine… No food, no sex, no love. Just like Artemis. Morgan shoved the thought away. Wiping the sweat off her brow, she struggled to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly. She grabbed at the chair's arm, while Ravindra steadied her.
"Jirra, I've got to go down to the engine room. Get a suit on and go out there and fix the starboard sensors. While you're there, check hull integrity."
Jirra was already on her feet. She saluted, a fist on her breast combined with a bow. "Mahodaya."
Morgan glared at her. "Don't call me that. I'm not an officer."
Jirra's white teeth gleamed. "Sorry, Morgan. Habit." Having directed a neck bow at Ravindra, she was out the door before Morgan could say anything else. Jirra was good. She'd been the best of the engineers Morgan had trained, as well as being a first class combat officer. But Morgan had had a hell of a time convincing them to use just her name.
"I think it's time you got over it," Ravindra murmured, grinning. Morgan had complained to him often enough, that she didn't want to be seen as an officer, and he'd always responded the same way.
"Whatever. I've got work to do," Morgan said, gently extricating herself from his grasp.
"Before you go, can they follow us?"
"Maybe. Seventy-five percent no. They can if their guesses are lucky, and if they can be bothered. I'd expect them to shrug and move on to somebody easier, wouldn't you?"
"True. Is there anything I can do?"
"Stay up here with Captain Davaskar, and keep an eye on the scenery and the weapons systems. If our friend follows us, and finds us, we're sitting ducks."
She stepped through the hatch, then ran down the stairs two at a time to the lower decks. Down here, the hitch in the engine's usually smooth rumble was more obvious. Morgan wished she could go into machine mode and chase away the fears and the doubts, but they were part of being a human. Sometimes she could see all too easily how machines could take over. She wondered often if 'normal' Supertechs—the ones who did as they were told and didn't stir the pot—had those doubts.
Part of her was aware of Jirra floating out of the ship's hold into the long dark, her breathing regular and even, with just the slightest jump in heart rate when she left the safety of the ship. The human half of her sealed the engine room, shut down the main drive, then opened the service panel. The force of the missile's blow had knocked the impellers out of alignment. A few moments with a spanner had them back to where they should be. When they got back to the Coalition, she'd modify the plans to insulate the engines even more. On a bigger ship, this wouldn't have happened. While she was there Morgan checked the shift drive, too. If that had been damaged, they'd be in terrible trouble.
"Morgan, unknown vessel astern." Ravindra's voice cut into her thoughts.
"On it." The sensor data showed an energy trail, but not much more. Morgan hadn't had time to probe earlier. Nothing to see. The IDs were invisible, and so was the intruder's appearance, hidden behind its shields. Judging by the emissions and its maneuverability the ship was a fighter. Then again, could you class Curlew as a fighter? It was fast and maneuverable.
"Morgan, can we get out of here?" Ravindra asked.
"We can. As soon as Jirra's on board."
Morgan connected with the sensors. Jirra had a few meters left to go to the air lock, but the raider was coming. Fast. Curlew was a sitting target.
"Shift drive on stand-by." Morgan powered up the shift drive and reset the jump coordinates for Torreno in the navigation system.
Come on, Jirra, hurry up. With the main drive shut down, the shields hadn't recovered, still operating at less than twenty-five percent. If the ship was hit again, they'd be history.
Her hands felt clammy, her heart thudded too fast. It wouldn't do her any good standing here. Morgan raced back up to the bridge in time to see Ravindra loose a missile, aiming a calculated distance ahead of the energy trail. Good. It would buy them a few precious seconds.
"Jirra's in," Davaskar said.
Morgan already knew. "Shift transfer… now."
Chapter 6
Ellen forced her way back from the Total Machine Meld. Rats. Damn Selwood to hell. She sagged back in the fighter's seat, a line of sweat trickling down the side of her
face. TMM was wonderful, but she sure felt terrible when it was over. Her whole body trembled, and her muscles felt like mush. If she'd needed any proof that Selwood was back, the way the yacht had disappeared sealed the issue. Only a Supertech could have handled a ship like that.
She'd been lucky when Curlew disappeared the last time. Selwood had her hands full, keeping the damaged ship going. A micro-jump was an obvious move, and a few educated guesses had proved right. Not this time, though. Curlew was gone.
What now? Tell Makasa his favorite girl was on the way home? If Ellen did that, her time with the Star Fleet was finished. Not that she couldn't afford to quietly disappear. As the mastermind behind the Black Cat Corporation she'd stashed away plenty of credit, in a multitude of different accounts, while smiling at Makasa pontificating about 'evil' Supertechs only interested in their own survival. She'd heard the stories, seen it happen, once. They tested your morals. And if you failed, you had an accident, a fatal one. Hirach had been shot at point blank range, apparently killed while boarding a pirate vessel. Except Ellen knew it was a Fleet officer who'd pressed the trigger. Makasa had never caught her, though. She'd learned how to act, how to keep her head down, to never betray what she really thought, at a very young age. She'd been a good little Supertech. She sent a silent 'thank you' to her mother. At least the dragon had been good for something.
Ellen shook her head. This wasn't doing her any good. Better head back to Iniciara. She set the nav coordinates, then transferred to shift drive. Selwood. Burn in Hell, bitch. Ellen's stomach churned. All that work, all that hiding her skills, all for nothing. They'd kill her, no doubt about it. If they found out. If Selwood arrived.
Leaning forward, Ellen pulled the water bottle from its holder and drank, then let a little splash over her face. She was only beaten if she gave up. Selwood had changed her name, and she was with a man from a planet outside the Coalition, on a ship with a bogus ID. Perhaps it would be enough to discredit her? Not to Makasa, though. Selwood always had the man wrapped around her finger. He might even know his favorite Supertech was still alive, doing some sort of clandestine job. Ellen shook her head. Just thinking about all the possibilities made her head hurt. The easiest way was still to kill Selwood. She toyed briefly with the notion of taking out a contract, through Black Cat. No. She'd do it herself. Why give somebody else the pleasure?
Curlew was supposed to be heading for Torreno. However fast that yacht was, it certainly wouldn't beat her military craft. She'd be ready and waiting days before Selwood arrived.
Ellen drained the last of the water and tossed the empty bottle aside. She'd better prepare a good reason why she'd disappeared unannounced in one of Glebe's fighters, and why she'd fired missiles and sustained damage.
"Returning to normal space in ten… nine…"
Captain Glebe should be reasonably happy with her version of events. Ellen had spent a bit of time modifying the Firebrand's records using images from a training mission and adding a record for an old Comet fighter, many of which were in private hands. In the fighter's transaction logs, Ellen's ship had engaged a Valyrie class heavy strike fighter, which was joined at the last moment by the Comet.
The stars appeared, bright as diamonds. And there was Iniciara, the visible hemisphere now almost completely in the night phase, the dark continents sparkling with hazy light.
Ellen took a deep breath. She wasn't looking forward to the interview with Captain Glebe. Her greatest hope was that he didn't make a complaint to Admiral Makasa.
***
"We should be safe this time." Morgan let out a breath. "Is Jirra all right? She would have been thrown around a bit."
Wincing, Morgan eased out of her seat and followed Ravindra through the hatch to the common room. Her hip would have a beautiful bruise. Davaskar had sustained a few scratches when a panel exploded and showered him with debris. But all up, they'd come through it well.
Jirra met them, combing her fingers through her hair. "That was one party I was happy to leave early," she said.
"Okay?" Morgan asked.
The younger woman nodded, grinning. "Fine. Can I learn to fly like that?"
Morgan snorted. "I'm not sure it's worth the pain." Memories of her childhood flooded back. Parents who didn't know what to do with her, schools that couldn't cope with her abilities. Growing up with a modified brain hadn't been easy.
Ravindra leaned toward her. "Are we safe, Morgan?"
"Huh? You mean can the intruder follow? Probability, two percent. But I suppose it depends on why they attacked us."
"Yes. Why?"
"There's a whole list of possible reasons." Prasad sat at the table, resting one elbow on the surface. "The easiest is an opportunistic pirate who saw us leave."
"Sure. That's what I would have thought." Morgan accepted a glass of water and a cup of fresh brewed kaff from Tullamarran. The man was an absolute jewel, always seeming to know what was needed. She thanked him and he responded with that rare, shy smile before he stepped away.
"But would a pirate follow us after you micro-jumped? And would a pirate have the skill?" Ravindra was in what Morgan called 'admiral' mode. He sat back in his seat, tapping his fingertips together.
Morgan shrugged. "A lot of pirates are Fleet trained. They get out of the service, miss the excitement. A few are solo, but to do that you have to get hold of a ship and to do that you need money. Most pirates are employees of crime syndicates, which have the credits to buy the best ships and modify them."
"Just like us," murmured Prasad. "So some might have the skill, but would they have the motivation?"
"Have you any idea what sort of ship attacked us?" Ravindra asked.
Morgan shook her head. "The ship was shielded." She stared at the tabletop. Steam rose from the cup of kaff Tullamarran had set in front of her. "Judging by its speed, energy emission signature, maneuverability, I'd expect a fighter. A state of the art one." That thought sent a tingle down her spine.
Ravindra's lips curved in the slightest of smiles. "That would be my guess, also. So who would have such a fighter? Crime syndicates, of course."
"Let's look at who had a motive." Prasad ticked off points on his fingers. "Forbes could have worked out we had more gold and jewels and decided to take it. That could have been a solo operator, or a syndicate. The reports from the riots show several people died. We might have been blamed for a death and attracted a vendetta. Or someone in the local Star Fleet saw an opportunity for an extra-curricular raid. Anything else?"
"Sounds pretty comprehensive," Morgan said.
"Is there any chance there was a Supertech flying that fighter?" Ravindra spoke softly, gazing at her with extra intensity.
Morgan's heart skipped. "Why do you say that?"
"The ship was shielded. You couldn't read anything from it and the piloting was incredible." She was aware of Ravindra's gaze, almost like a laser beam on her skin.
The notion hadn't entered her head. Another Supertech. No, it wasn't likely. "Sure, the pilot was good, very good. But then again, the craft could have had a capability I haven't encountered. Chasing us after the micro-jump wasn't special, just that maneuver to destroy the missile, and a really skilled pilot could manage that." The longer she talked the more comfortable she felt. "Besides, it doesn't make sense. Another Supertech would be one of those tame ones who do as they're told, and they work for Makasa. They wouldn't try to destroy this ship unless they were ordered…" Her stomach lurched.
Nodding, Ravindra echoed, "Unless they were ordered."
"Is there any chance this has anything to do with you, Morgan?" Ravindra said.
She'd thought about that before they'd left and she'd covered her tracks. The last thing she wanted was to be discovered. She checked again, re-running the risk profile. Probability was very low. "I don't think it could have anything to do with me. They think I'm dead. If it was Makasa or someone connected with him, or if they'd recognized the identifiers on the ship, they would have stopped us, not tried to de
stroy the ship." She snorted. "Supertechs are an expensive commodity. He'd want me back, not dead."
"So. You are comfortable?" Ravindra regarded her steadily.
Resting her chin on her fist, she said, "The probability that this was anything but an opportunistic pirate attack is in the order of seven percent."
"But not zero."
Morgan shrugged. "Nothing's ever zero. Or one hundred percent."
"That about covers it, then." Ravindra picked up his cup and sipped. "I think we can safely put this behind us." He waved a hand at Morgan. "And the ship? Can the damage be repaired?"
"Yes. Jirra and I will work on that. When we've finished our kaff."
Prasad drained his kaff and set his cup back on the table. "What about our friend, Doctor Rosmenyo?"
Morgan rolled her eyes. "There's only one of me. Ship first, okay?"
"I'll start looking at the books," he replied.
Chapter 7
Ellen braced herself. This wasn't going to be nice. She stepped through the door into Makasa's office suite and smiled at his clerk. "Commander Cruickshank. Admiral Makasa wanted to see me."
"Yes, ma'am." The clerk pressed a button to open the door to the inner sanctum. "You're to go through."
Calm. In control. Ellen strode inside, performed an immaculate right face, and saluted. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"
He made her wait. She had known he would. Deliberately, he put down the light pen and pressed the control to hide his screen, which sank into the desk cavity. He placed his forearms against the desk's edge, and lacing the fingers of both beringed hands together, he stared at her from black eyes in an ebony face. The thick lips were curved downward.
"You know why you're here." His chins wobbled as he spoke.
"Yes, Sir." He hadn't told her to stand at ease.
"I've had a complaint from Captain Glebe. Would you care to explain to me what in hell you thought you were doing?"
Ellen glanced down at her shoes. "I… I'm sorry, Sir. I overestimated my capability."
Morgan's Return Page 6
